


14th of Drakonis

by electricghoti



Series: Ashkaari Side Works [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bad Puns, Drunken Shenanigans, Gen, Humor, Pi Day, Pie Day, Slice of Life, story time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 21:32:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6256669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricghoti/pseuds/electricghoti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashkaari tells a story of drunken shenanigans regarding some of her fellow mercenaries. Ser Rylen and a cook in Griffonwing Keep manage to scrounge together Starkhaven's most famous dish: fish-and-egg pie. Pi day silliness. Probably not canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	14th of Drakonis

“What do you mean you’ve never had fish-and-egg pie?”  
A very surprised Ser Rylen gaped in disbelief, his voice increasing in pitch as if every word caused him further distress. The great Herald of Andraste, vanquisher of Venatori and darkspawn, Inquisitor to an Inquisition, attempted to sheepishly hide herself behind a fan of papers in her hands to protect herself from an unhappy Starkhavener. 

“Not all the nice places in Starkhaven let in a qunari, Rylen. Last time I had the opportunity I never got to smell it before getting the boot. Here’s what I learned: elves will drink you under the table. And on a mounted hart.”  
Ashkaari frowned at the memory, stacking the papers in front of her on the table with a sharp sigh. Embarrassment over missing out on a crucial part of Free Marcher life mixed with resurfaced disappointment. She supposed she could have ordered fish-and-egg pie at anytime since she became Inquisitor, but more than once some trickster whim of fate had kept her from enjoying the dish as if Varric were narrating that specific plot of her life. 

“Look here lass,” the corners of Rylen’s lips quirked mischievously when he paused to wait for Ashkaari to lift her head, “That sounds like a story. I’ll make you a deal: I get you a fish-and-egg pie and you tell me why I shouldn’t drink with elves. That new cook you found works miracles and I’ll bet today he can work a miracle.”  
Story time never failed to get a soldier’s attention. Worse than mercenaries when it comes to gossip and tales of exploits. The question was: could this cook actually follow through? She remained quiet for several moments before speaking, two fingers idly tracing the raised scar along her cheek in contemplation. 

“You’ve got a deal. I’ll start when you get back from praying to our Maker of Miracle Food.”

\--------------------------------

“It’s our lucky day. Where we managed to get fish in this blighted desert I have no idea, but you owe me details.”

She snorted most un-Inquisitor-like in response, shaking her head in disbelief that both the cook had the ingredients on hand, and that she’d be eating it in a desert on a routine inspection of the Keep. The stack of reports she’d been looking over were shoved off to the side with a heavy stone to keep them from scattering in a breeze.

“Well, the last time I tried to have it was actually in Starkhaven…” Granite and fountains. Wide walkways. That was what she remembered of Starkhaven in one of the earlier times her mercenary group had passed through. The biggest city in the Free Marches, the most opulent and its upper crust still suspicious of horned people dirtying their luxury. Luckily, some of the more commoner taverns were willing to accommodate mercenary groups made up of non-humans.

“Most of the time we were all qunari, but this time we had some city elves who’d travelled with us awhile. Enough that they’d stopped being horrified of Kaariss’...poetry. Anyway, enough of us were together that we decided to invade a tavern that night and have a meal. You should have seen the looks on the waitresses faces when we walked in…” They were doing a very poor job of not being terrified. One qunari gets looks anywhere she goes, but half a dozen and a couple of elves were often regarded as a dangerous horde. She was a bit younger, still new to larger cities like Starkhaven and still trying to pretend she was older and louder than she really was. While still not a fan of beers, she could at least listen to stories and eat something slightly nicer than the typical fare.

“Everything was fine until Daraad decided to insult our elf mates about their lack of stature. Daraad was big in a lot of ways, especially when it came to opening his mouth in all the wrong ways. One of them - Nissa - just calmly pointed out that she’d already had two and a half pints compared to his one and that he was being an idiot for relying on strength alone. THAT let to a contest, of course…” The most obvious and worst kind of contest. Drinking. Ashkaari rolled her eyes with enough force to make her upper lids hurt while explaining this portion of the evening. Her disdain was clearly obvious to a smirking Ser Rylen who’d been a soldier long enough to not be surprised at this particular turn.

“I’m guessing the evening quickly took a turn for the worse. How long did it take this Daraad fellow to victory boast before being removed?” 

“That’s actually the opposite of what happened. I just wanted my fish-and-egg pie, but several of the others wanted in on the contest as well. The poor girl serving us could hardly keep up with how fast the drinks were going down. Daraad hit the table first, but Nissa just kept going. She was pretty calm at first, but you’d think she was a lion by her voice alone. That was when it left the table…”

She had to cover her face while describing how and who got rowdy enough to break free from the constraints of the table. Other patrons looked on with either irritation regarding their peaceful drinking being interrupted, or appalled interest as if there were a naked nug wrangling pit in the middle of the street. Drunken shenanigans included such treasures like Kaariss standing in a spot and speaking a poetic pun about it before every drink, among other things. She could heard Rylen chuckling from behind her palms covering her eyes. That was fine. She had enough first hand embarrassment about the situation to have enough leftover for second hand as well.

“That’s not even the worst, Rylen. I don’t know how we avoided getting kicked out until everyone had enough to pickle their own food. One by one all the others called it quits, but Nissa was still drinking even after everyone else stopped. I hadn’t even gotten my pie yet. That was when Nissa chose to climb the stuffed hart’s head mounted on the wall like she was a halla-riding Dalish. Tried to climb, anyway.” 

Climb a...wall mount? Now you’re exaggerating. I can always tell when tales get too wild.” Were he not laughing quite so loudly in between each sentence, Ashkaari might have thought Rylen were disengaging from the tale. Ashkaari pivoted her palms such that they were cupping her eyes with the intent to glare at Rylen, yet found herself staring at a few more pairs of eyes than when she started. A few soldiers too bold to merely eavesdrop had wandered over to the table while Ashkaari spoke. They murmured to each other excitedly, eager to hear the exciting conclusion. Can’t keep a soldier from a good story.

“She climbed over the railing on the second floor to hop onto its neck, but she lost her footing and belly flopped instead. There was silence for just a moment and then I heard a crack! The whole head and the the wood below it started bending away from the wall. I swear the entire tavern held its breath as this hart’s head hurtled toward a man walking out at the wrong time. The man - cook and owner - carrying my fish-and-egg pie. Knocked to the ground by an elf drunkenly draped over the neck of this stuffed hart like she was freshly killed game herself. Pie smashed in his face. Nissa is facing the back of his head and she says, ‘hey, looks like ya creamed yourself after gettin’ pegged by a hart.’”  
Equal parts cheers and laughter erupted around the table. Even Rylen, a former Templar, had a loud and throaty laugh at her expense. She succeeded in defying his expectations, at least. She, on the other hand, had a heavy shade of red radiating from her cheeks. Despite being a bystander, horribly timed innuendos and such outlandish behavior never failed to cause discomfort.

“Make way! Coming through! Special order for the Inquisitor!”  
A sharp and reedy voice cut above the din and to her left Ashkaari saw heads part for someone incoming. Something incoming, judging by the smell of spice and egg suddenly hitting her nose with the shift of a breeze. Her eyes widened. Impossible. With a flourish, a man in a stained apron placed a simple wooden tray in front of her. A tin covered by a buttery crust sat in the center with steam curling from the top, wafting a mere hint of the mouthwatering ingredients baked inside. Rylen's Maker of Miracle Food had actually done it. She jerked her head up and gave that man the brightest smile she could muster. Such joy should have been reserved for Inquisition victories, but there was nothing quite like filling even a simple request for food to bring the people together more than the blood of battle. Including her.  
“Inquisitor,” Rylen began, clearing his throat while he presented her with the handle of a spoon, “Deal fulfilled. Today is the 14th of Drakonis. Shall we mark the occasion as a Pie Day to celebrate your first?”


End file.
